


Grey Places.

by hennethgalad



Category: the lord of the rings
Genre: Gen, The Prancing Pony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:20:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25442296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hennethgalad/pseuds/hennethgalad
Summary: shot of firewater.
Kudos: 1
Collections: Tolkien Gen Week 2020





	Grey Places.

  
Strider was waiting for him in the hallway, half concealed behind the cloaks. He stepped forth and stretched out a hand "Mr Butterbur, may I speak?"  
"Call me Barliman, no need to be formal, what can I get for you?"  
The Ranger held out a gold piece "Knowledge, Barliman, news of that stranger from down south, sitting in your common room with that Scarface."  
"Oh! Was it that gentleman from Gondor? He's a merchant, come up the Greenway."  
"I hope you may be right, but he is not from Gondor, he is not a gentleman, and he did not come up the Greenway, for I have been awaiting a friend on that Road these three days, and the Vulture did not pass us."  
Barliman laughed "He does look like a vulture with that great nose of his, and that frown looks like it never leaves him, even in sleep. But I can’t be bothering my customers with questions, you do see that, why if I was to do that half my custom would stop away!"  
Strider smiled slowly "Nor would I ask it of you. No, I merely ask that you quietly send home the local worthies, until there is only Scarface and the Vulture, and then give them salted nuts to eat to make them thirsty. This gold should cover a bottle of Iron Hills firewater, tell them it is with your compliments, hoping your esteemed guest will see fit to honour you again, you know what to say. But do not go near them, polish your goblets until they are careless and you are able to hear them."

  
Scarface was a singing drunk, but the Vulture was clearly a worrier. Barliman could see him thinking, and then asking Scarface to say once more what he had clearly already said several times. Scarface was beginning to have trouble remembering his earlier respect for the Vulture, a respect so obsequious it gave the appearance of abject terror. And when the Vulture stooped forwards and hissed the question again, Scarface gave up, flapped a hand irritably at the Vulture as at a fly, and said loudly  
"I told you three, four times already, we send scouts towards the filthy light of the elves, and they never return. I showed you! On that map! There's places we just can’t go. East as well as West. Where Loudwater joins the other one, north of that, and between Weathertop and the bridge. There’s elves beyond that, but no one, not even birds, have found them. There might be caves, it’s too long since our people were here, records are missing, no one knows!" he leaned forwards and looked seriously at the Vulture, who sat back in his chair and emptied the glass of firewater in his hand, then filled it again as Scarface pointed wavily at him "My best scouts, gone. Vanished. We watched every inch of ground, we crawled through moonless nights, we picked up every twig and laid it carefully aside, and then our best boys wormed their way silently into the dark. Two, I got two back, out of dozens. They had found piles of ash, and the burned remains of bits of gear off our lads.  
Grey places, that’s what we call them. The darkness is fouled there, polluted by the light of those filthy elves."


End file.
